


A Night in the Movies

by SophiaHawkins



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: "House on Haunted Hill (1959)", "Vampyre (1932)", "Wings (1927)", AU, Fantasy, Gen, War, spoilers for movies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28879365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaHawkins/pseuds/SophiaHawkins
Summary: A conglomerate of movie moments recreated with Matt Casey and Kelly Severide and (occasionally) the rest of the crew from Firehouse 51. Massive spoilers ahead.
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very different kind of story. It started as an experiment to see how well it would work to put Casey and Severide in the places of lead roles in some classic and not so classic movies, with few changes to the dialogue and plot when possible, all the while making them feel 'in character'. For the movies referenced, some are old, some are very old, and I hope everybody likes the way the stories turned out. The first chapter has two separate stories because they are both shorter compared to the rest. The first one is a real tearjerker, and I thought it would be better to put a second installment with it to lift the mood a bit. Especially given all the different films referenced, all standard disclaimers apply, don't own so don't sue, hope you enjoy, please read and review. The titles and years of the movies listed will be mentioned above each story.

A Night in the Movies

* * *

Wings (1927)

* * *

Kelly Severide exited his plane and went to the farmhouse the enemy ship had made a crash landing into. He wanted to look the enemy soldier he'd brought down right in the eyes. As he made his way to the house, he saw one of the plane's flags still attached to the rear of it. He ripped the enemy flag off and carried it with him as a trophy, and entered the house, through the large hole the plane had made in the front wall.

The people who lived there were gathered around the front room, and the pilot from the enemy plane had been removed from the cockpit and was laid out on a table, mortally wounded. Kelly felt his eyes widen as he saw it was _not_ an enemy soldier, it was his own friend and comrade, Matt Casey. The blonde man weakly turned his head and offered a faint smile and just barely croaked out, "Kelly."

"Oh my God...Matt!" he screamed in the horror of realization. He ran over to the table and looked down at the man he'd forced down. How could this have happened?

Matt's eyes looked towards the ceiling and he weakly tried to raise his hand as he explained, "I stole the plane...thought I could get across the lines."

Kelly collapsed beside him and took his best friend in his arms, he felt Casey's blood on him, he felt the lacerations in Matt's scalp as he almost compulsively stroked over the back of his head.

"I'll get a doctor..." he stood up and turned around and noticed nobody had moved from where they stood, he thought he was going crazy, why wasn't anybody helping?

There was a soldier there, who explained to Kelly, "If it were any use I would've gone myself. It's only minutes."

Kelly's heart sank. He knew it was true, and yet, it couldn't be true. This couldn't be how it ended.

Matt lay on the table, no strength to move, but he managed a small smile and weakly said, "Don't go, Kelly, just stay here with me for a little while."

Kelly felt his eyes welling up with tears as he looked down at him, and collapsed on top of his best friend, one arm wrapped around him, the other hand cradled around the back of his head. He pulled himself up enough to look Matt in the eyes and told him, "I was just trying to bring one more enemy plane down for you..." His throat swelled with tears and the ones in his eyes were starting to spill over.

Tears were also starting to form in Matt's eyes as he looked up at his friend and weakly tried to assure him, "Don't, Kelly, oh please don't, this wasn't your fault."

Kelly absentmindedly tightened his hold on Casey as the two briefly argued over Severide's guilt in what had taken place.

Matt tried to smile a little more reassuringly and told Kelly, "You didn't shoot me down, Kelly...you _did_ bring down an enemy plane, don't you see?"

There weren't any more words. Kelly leaned down and kissed Matt on the side of his mouth as Casey weakly wrapped his arm around the back of Kelly's neck. After a couple seconds, Kelly pulled back and looked down at Casey, trying futilely to smile through his tears. "You know nothing in the world means as much to me as your friendship..."

Matt responded, "I knew it, all the time...all set?"

Before Kelly even had time to question the last words, he felt as much as he heard Matt's arm fall lifelessly to his side on the table.

Kelly broke down sobbing, still clinging to his lifeless friend. After a moment, knowing what he must do now, he pulled back, grabbed Matt's lifeless wrist, slung his arm over his shoulders, lifted Matt's body off the table, carried him out of the house, and walked off to find a suitable place for a proper burial.

* * *

Rolling Thunder (1977)

* * *

Matt Casey followed Kelly Severide into his bedroom, just barely blocking out the family conversation that was taking place in the living room. It had been an awkward dinner and an awkward conversation, a whole family of people that Kelly hardly even recognized anymore, talking about things that didn't mean anything to either man.

"I found them," Matt told him.

"Who?" Kelly asked.

"The men who killed Gabby and Louie." The men who had ambushed him in his own home, wanting to rob him of the silver dollars he'd been awarded after the 8 years he, and several others, Kelly included, spent forgotten in a POW camp. The men who were such lowlives, to get the silver dollars they rammed his hand down the garbage disposal, and shot his wife and son right in front of him. The doctors had replaced his hand with a prosthetic hook, and he'd spent weeks in physical therapy during his recovery, learning how to use it for everyday tasks, how to dress himself, how to grab things. Once he was released from the hospital he'd spent hours of his own physical therapy, learning how to load and shoot his guns with it, how to still be able to hit his targets. He'd been preparing for this day, and now the time had come.

Kelly slowly turned his head and looked at Casey. No words were exchanged. Then he said, almost disconnectedly, "I'll just get my gear." He went to the closet, got out his bag, filled it with ammo, and got down his riot gun. He changed back into his military uniform and the two men headed downstairs where the entire family was still sitting around the living room visiting, paying almost no mind whatsoever to the two men who left with no word other than Kelly's simple 'Bye, Pops' to his father. Benny Severide, who didn't show any visible signs of concern or question, seemed to have a better idea of what was going on than anyone else in the house. He didn't try to stop his son, but there was a silent mutual understanding between them.

* * *

The men who had killed Casey's family were holed up in a whorehouse, so as to not draw suspicion, Kelly went in the front door and asked for a woman. He got a skinny brunette who answered to the name of Candy, and they went to a room, where he made small talk bartering about the price of her services, and he laid back on the bed like an impotent bump and let her do what she thought she needed to get things moving along, all the while he kept his clothes on, had no physical response to her touch whatsoever, and he just kept his ear open for Casey's signal. Soon there was a tap on the wall, and he subtly slipped his arm under the bed and dragged out his bag and started taking everything out one piece at a time, knowing the final showdown was about to take place.

A couple minutes later there was the sound of gunfire from down the hall, and Kelly shot up on the bed, grabbed the parts to his gun and quickly put it together.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" the woman asked him.

Without even a glance at her, Kelly finished assembling his gun and answered in a deadpan tone, "Gonna go kill a whole bunch of people."

Out in the hall Casey was already making his rounds. He kept his 12 gauge shotgun in his hand as he pulled doors open with his prosthetic hook. Nobody this side of the border knew who he was so it had been easy to inquire about the whereabouts of the gang of killers that had murdered his son, and now it was his turn to ambush them. He threw a door open, and as soon as he caught sight of one of the men, he opened fire. Women were running from room to room screaming, trying to get out of the line of fire, and one by one the men came out of the rooms. Casey shot another one and he fell back. Kelly came out in the hall at this time and went to another door, kicked it open and saw three men in a card game, he shot two before the third got to him, during which he dropped his gun and settled for punching the guy in the face, he fell back towards the bed and reached for a knife, but Kelly grabbed it before he could and stabbed the man in the throat, then dropped the knife and walked back out.

Casey put a round of buckshot in another man, when somebody else fired and Casey felt his shoulder explode in a burning pain. He fell to the ground but quickly got to his feet and headed up the stairs to the second floor. Kelly came around the corner with his gun and shot the man who'd put a bullet in Casey.

Upstairs, Casey had switched to his Smith and Wesson model 28 revolver once he ran out of ammo in his shotgun. A man came out a door, Casey recognized him and shot him. Kelly came around the other corner and blasted him with his shotgun, and the man fell to the floor. The two of them ran back around the corner and headed for the stairs, Kelly skidded across the landing and crouched down with his back against the wall to reload. Casey chanced a glance down the stairs and drew back quickly as they were met with a round of gunfire flying up towards them. Casey reached in his jacket pocket and took out spare ammo for Kelly's gun and tossed it to him, and hastily moved to reload his own gun, all the while the leader of the gang downstairs was yelling obscenities at them to come down and die.

As both men reloaded their guns, they looked at each other and knew this was the moment they came for. Kelly pushed back against the wall to stand up straight, as did Matt, and when the gunfire downstairs had ceased for a second, they took advantage of it and charged down the stairs firing. Men were firing at them from all directions, they fired back. Casey hit the ground running and opened fire on anybody shooting at him, he got shot again and screamed in pain as he fell back against the wall, but still got another round off. One of them shot Kelly as he was coming down the stairs, he doubled around in pain and hit the floor and rolled over, but even on his back he was able to drop the man who'd shot him. He crawled along on the floor to advance to his next target. The side of Casey's shirt was stained with blood but he saw the leader coming at him with his own gun ready to shoot, and Casey shot first. The man fell back against the wall, the front of his own shirt stained with blood. Casey got to his feet, walked over to the man, and promptly shot him three more times, then the gun clicked signaling the end of the bullets. Casey looked at his gun almost in disbelief and dropped it on the counter.

It was all over now, Casey stepped over the dead bodies and the broken glass from the bottles of beer and whiskey that had been shot to pieces, and looked down at Kelly, who was seated on the floor, his back pressed against the bar and he was also bleeding out. Casey grabbed Kelly's arm, pulled him to his feet and slung Kelly's arm over his shoulders.

"Come on, let's get out of here," he told Severide as the two of them staggered towards the door and walked out into the night, neither knowing if they would live long enough to get to a doctor or even back home, or if they would bleed out in the car on the way, but both of them finally knowing peace for the first time in eight years.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few variations on the dialogue this time.

Vampyr (1932)

* * *

Matt Casey had been traveling the countryside on foot for most of the day and he saw the sun was going down, it would soon be night and he didn't want to spend a night out in the elements. He looked ahead and saw a small inn by the docks, if he was lucky maybe there'd be a room available. As he approached the inn he passed by an older man who walked right by him without acknowledging him, carrying a large scythe over his shoulder as he headed down towards the dock. Matt thought nothing of it and knocked on the door. From above he heard a woman's voice, and looked up and saw the innkeeper sticking her head out a window on the second floor, telling him to come around to the other side.

He did, and she let him in. From outside he heard a loud clanging, and looked out the window and saw the man with the scythe at the dock ringing a bell fastened to a post. He was curious what it meant but he was honestly too tired to care, he paid the woman for a room and by a faint candlelight she showed him to a room upstairs.

"Goodnight," she said as she showed him in.

"Goodnight," he replied as she left and closed the door behind her, plunging him into near darkness.

From another room he could hear somebody talking loudly, but the words were too incoherent for him to make out. All he wanted to do was go to bed, and he would almost bet he could sleep through the rantings and ravings of the man next door.

He did sleep for a while, but it didn't seem long. He wasn't sure what had woken him up but he sat up in his bed and he saw a man enter his room, an older man who he had never seen before.

"What do you want?" Casey demanded to know.

But the man didn't answer, it was as if he didn't even see Matt. And then suddenly, he raised a finger and demanded, "Quiet...she mustn't die, you understand?" He took out a package wrapped in brown paper and twine and set it down, and left the room. Casey took a moment to consider that perhaps he had just been dreaming, but he got up and found the package, and in the moonlight pouring in through the windows he saw writing on the package.

"To be opened upon my death"

Matt wasn't sure what was going on, but he hopped out of bed, got dressed, crept downstairs and made his way out into the night to see if he could find some answers.

Somewhere in the distance, certain noises stuck out to him. Dogs barking, howling, a familiar sound of a blade chopping the earth and dirt being flung, somebody somewhere close by was digging a grave. He looked around but saw no one. But in the light from the moon that poured down on the road, he _did_ see shadows, shadows of people one by one running along into the night. He followed the shadows through the countryside, and came to an estate where a forlorn mansion sat, looking abandoned, and yet something told Matt that there were people in it. He headed on up to the house, and found a window to peer in. There wasn't any sign of people around on the first floor, but he looked up the stairs, and there were shadows. Shadows of an old man, and some feet behind him, another man with a rifle aimed at him. Casey ran around to the door and beat on it.

"Open up! Hurry, let me in!"

From inside there was the sound of somebody coming. A small light, an older man, he guessed the caretaker, coming to the door.

"What is it?" the man demanded to know as he unlocked the door.

Matt rushed in and told him, "Hurry, they're trying to kill him!" He didn't even know who 'he' was or for that matter who 'they' were, but he knew they were running out of time. Casey and the other man headed for a set of doors leading to the next room, but they were blocked, there was a weight against them, they went around another way and saw the old man sprawled on the floor, and beside him was a toppled candelabra, the four candles were still burning, the melted wax already pooled on the floor. In the candlelight as Casey picked up the candelabra to set it upright, he recognized him as the old man in his room at the inn, and though there were no visible wounds on him, it was obvious the man was dying.

The village doctor wouldn't get there in time, there was nothing to do but to make the man comfortable. They propped his head up and Casey spooned small amounts of water into the old man's mouth, during which time he said nothing. There was a sound of footsteps approaching, and Matt looked up and saw a young blonde haired woman, he guessed the old man's daughter, enter the room with a look of horror on her face.

"Is he dying?" she asked.

"I'm afraid so," he answered.

She knelt down beside her father, and he offered a faint smile at her, and then he was gone.

"My father's dead," the woman said mournfully, "and my sister is dying."

"Where is she?" Matt asked.

"Upstairs," she answered. "The doctor has been sent for."

"Show me," Casey said.

"We'll all go," the caretaker, who Matt had learned was named Christopher Herrmann, said as he picked up a candelabra with four candles burning.

The three of them climbed the stairs and Casey could hear the mumbled prayers of a woman. They entered the bedchamber and he saw a nun seated beside the bed, bent over her rosary beads. In the bed there was another blonde haired woman, her eyes closed, her skin pale, her breathing faint. Suddenly she writhed around and cried out in her sleep, "The blood! The blood!"

The younger sister went over to the bed and tried to rouse her. "Leslie? Can you hear me?"

The sick woman slowly opened her eyes and tried to manage a small smile, "Sylvie..."

Matt saw the caretaker go over to the nun, and he strained to hear them.

"How's she doing?"

"Poorly."

"Her pulse?"

"Weak. I'm afraid she _is_ dying."

Matt shook his head. What a horrible tragedy to stumble into. He was asked to leave the room and he headed back downstairs and saw some people had come to take the father's body away. Now he remembered the package he'd found back at the inn, which he'd been carrying inside his jacket. He took out the small package, unwrapped the twine and opened the paper. It was a book on the history of vampyres, that explained what they were, and who their victims were, and how they sought out their victims, and how the bite marks of a vampire were a sign of damnation.

* * *

Leslie opened her eyes and told her sister, "I wish I could die."

"Don't say that, Leslie," Sylvie said, horrified.

But her older sister was adamant, "I know, I'm lost, I'm damned!"

Sylvie gasped, "Sister!"

The nun turned around and tried not to react at the new marks on Leslie's throat. She went to the bedside table and douse a rag in antiseptic and cleaned the wound, Leslie gasped at the sensation.

* * *

As Matt continued to read the book, he found a passage about how the bite of a vampire can turn one of their victims also into a vampire, who lusts for blood of their most dearly loved. Entire families could be wiped out by a newfound vampire, even whole villages if they weren't stopped.

* * *

Leslie had appeared to fall asleep for a while but shortly after she opened her eyes and looked over at her sister seated beside her, and Leslie's eyes widened and her mouth opened to a fiendish grin, she sat up and started to lean over and just started to part her teeth when she heard other people coming. Interrupted, she laid back down and cursed the loss of her sister's blood. As the nun and the caretaker returned, Sylvie was sent out of the room to await the doctor's arrival. She went downstairs and sat in a chair, looking despondently at the ceiling and questioned, "Why does the doctor always come at night?"

In the next room, Matt Casey had just started to nod off while reading the book, when he heard somebody at the door. The caretaker came and greeted the doctor, a strange looking old man with glasses and wild gray hair and a black mustache, he was dressed all in black. There was something about him that unsettled Matt immediately. He heard Herrmann the caretaker speaking with him quietly.

"How is she doing?"

"Not well at all."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"She was walking in her sleep again last night, we found her out on the grounds."

"Let's go take a look at her."

"She has another one of those marks on her neck."

Matt decided he better see what was going on and followed the men upstairs. Leslie looked even worse now than she had earlier.

"Can't she be saved?" he asked the doctor.

The older man looked at him skeptically and responded, "Perhaps, but she needs blood. Are you willing to give her your own?"

Matt looked over at the sick woman laying in the bed. Before he answered, the doctor withdrew the necessary instruments from his bag and commanded Casey, "Come, I will draw your blood."

* * *

Matt felt dizzy and weak after having his blood taken to give to Leslie. He sat in a chair outside her bedroom, his sleeve rolled up to his elbow, and waited for the sensation to pass, but he felt horrible from the ordeal. He felt sick, fatigued, gradually he felt like reality was slipping away from him.

"Doctor," he weakly called out as he looked at his arm, "doctor!"

"What is it?" the old man asked as he came to the door.

"I'm losing blood," Casey said concernedly.

"Nonsense, it's right here!" the doctor said with what sounded like a laugh, and slammed the door, presenting a barricade between them.

Casey felt so weak and tired, he could hardly even think. He closed his eyes, and dreamed, of a skull, and a skeletal hand clutching a bottle of poison. And somewhere he heard a voice saying that vampires will try to drive their victims to suicide, ensuring ownership of their damned souls. He also heard a voice mention how vampires will use both their victims _and_ criminals to follow their every command, how a village doctor had been possessed by a vampire and gone on to commit atrocities unconscionable before his spree was finally ended. An entire village had come under a plague that had been attributed to a vampire who was an old woman, who had been evil all her life and upon her death sold her soul to the Evil One and thus became a vampire, and her murderous reign of terror continued until her body had been dug up in the cemetery at dawn and a stake driven through her heart, nailing her evil soul to the solid ground.

He felt somebody shaking him and he heard Herrmann the caretaker telling her, "Come quickly, something terrible is happening!"

Casey pulled himself to his feet and ran into the bedroom and he saw the doctor standing close to the bed, and Leslie turned on her side clutching a small bottle of poison, just about to drink it. Before he even realized what he was doing, he moved right past the doctor and knocked the bottle out of Leslie's hand, he turned and the doctor had disappeared out of the room.

"He was trying to kill the girl," Herrmann said, "he must be stopped!"

Casey ran out of the room, down the stairs and out into the night, trying to follow the doctor's trail, but he was nowhere to be found. Despite this, Casey kept running, and he followed the sound of the dirt being dug up, and he eventually stopped running and came to a small building and walked in. He stopped in his tracks and felt his heart leap in his throat at the sight before him of a coffin with a shroud draped over it, the lid was leaned against the wall, with writing etched on it about coming from and returning to the dust, and there was a window in the lid. Casey grabbed the corner of the shroud and drew it back, and found himself staring down at his own face. He saw himself laid out in the coffin, flowers laid in a ring surrounding his head, his eyes wide open in a permanent fixture of death, looking straight up at him.

Some men entered the room, and Casey saw one of them grab a hand drill, another grabbed the lid of the coffin, and placed it on top, and now Casey found himself staring up through the window in it. Now _he_ was in the coffin, able to see everything through the window but unable to move, unable to blink, unable to talk or scream for help. He saw the hand drill and heard the noise it made as it drilled the screws down to hold the lid in place. Then he felt the coffin being lifted up, and saw the ceiling above, the walls, the lights, he saw himself being carried through the doorway, out into the daylight, past the church, he saw the church, the windows towards the top, the whole sanctuary seemed to be placed on its side. He saw the man carry his coffin out to the cemetery, and felt the coffin being lowered.

Casey heard a shovel digging and felt a breeze blow on his skin, and he opened his eyes and realized he had fallen asleep on a bench near the cemetery. The sun was coming up, it was morning. He got up, and followed the sound, and he saw Herrmann prying the marble slab up that covered the grave of a woman who had died several years ago. The slab had been broken into two large pieces some time ago, first one piece came up, then another, and the caretaker stepped down into the grave, he handed Casey up several boards from the coffin, then he raised the lid, and they both saw the woman buried there, looking even now so many years later as if she had just been buried. Casey handed down to the caretaker a long metal stake, and he gripped it in both hands and positioned it just right and plunged it through the old woman's heart. Suddenly, both men saw the corpse of the woman change into a skeleton.

Back at the manor, Leslie opened her eyes wide and sat up in bed and told the nun seated beside her, "I'm free, my soul feels strong!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a 3 parter, half of the story-line from the movie has been omitted, of the half that remains, the dialogue is largely verbatim.

House on Haunted Hill (1959)

* * *

"Well, where is everybody?"

"This isn't a very warm welcome, is it?"

"Only the ghosts in this house are glad we're here."

"Are we all strangers to each other?" Leslie Shay asked the group of people who had gathered into the strange old house along with her. The other guests turned towards her, then looked at one another. She addressed the other blonde woman, and the dark haired man, "Don't you two know each other?"

They looked at each other and he said, "I'm afraid I don't know your name."

"I'm Sylvie Brett," she said as she extended her hand.

"Kelly Severide," he replied as he shook it.

"Is Matt Casey a friend of yours?" Leslie asked.

Kelly turned towards her, "I've heard of him, but I've never met him."

Sylvie added, "I work for one of his companies but I've never seen him."

"I've never met the man either, just a phone call," Leslie said, and turned to the doctor, Peter Mills, "Do you know him?"

Mills laughed self consciously, "No."

Leslie turned to the 5th guest, Christopher Herrmann, a very serious looking man, the one who had made the comment about the ghosts. The one, who it turned out, as was known around town by reputation, was the legal owner of the house, and had owned it several years ago when his brother, and sister-in-law, were both murdered in it. "Then you're the only one of us who does."

The older man shook his head and remarked, "I don't know him. All the details of renting the house were done by mail."

"He's quite wealthy, isn't he?" Peter asked.

"Millions," Shay answered.

"And uh...five wives I believe," he said.

"Four I think so far," Shay corrected him.

Mills looked around at the others and commented, "But a quarter million dollars is a little steep even for a millionaire." The five of them shared the common factor that they had all been invited by Matt Casey to spend the night in this gloomy old house that was supposedly haunted, that he'd rented for his wife's birthday party, and anyone who stayed the night would receive $50,000. It had been a strange invitation but they had all decided to come and see if it was for real.

Kelly looked around at the century old house with antique furniture, candles burning in wrought iron holders hanging from the walls with glass shades, a chandelier full of about 100 candles burning above them hanging from the ceiling. "If I was going to haunt anybody, this would certainly be the house I'd do it in."

From behind them they heard the sudden squeak of protesting hinges as the front door slammed shut and nobody was there.

"Who closed the door?" Sylvie asked.

Kelly went over and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. The door itself, which had already been waiting open when they arrived, seemed to be made of solid steel. He turned back and something caught his eye, the chandelier above was moving unsteadily and it hovered right over Sylvie. In a split second decision, Kelly rushed over, grabbed Sylvie and pulled her away, the two of them pressed flat against the wall as the chandelier broke off its base and crashed to the floor right where they'd been standing.

From the second floor, Matt Casey peered down from the banister and observed his guests. Without a word, he silently retreated to the hall, and to the room where he and his wife were staying.

"Gabby, our guests are here and fortunately still alive, is your face on yet?" he called out to the bathroom.

The door opened and Gabby Dawson-Casey sauntered out in a dressing gown open at the waist and a shimmering bustier.

"Dust and dirt everywhere, and the water barely trickles," she complained in a sultry voice, "couldn't you have had the place cleaned?"

Casey smiled at his wife, "Atmosphere, darling, you know how ghosts are, they never tidy up. Now that's a very fetching outfit, but hardly suitable for a party."

Gabby looked at him with determined eyes and said simply, "I'm not going to the party."

"The spend the night ghost party was your idea, remember? Since it's going to cost me a quarter million dollars, I want you to have fun," Casey told her.

Coyly she replied, "The party _was_ my idea, until _you_ invited all the guests...why are they all strangers? Why none of our friends?"

"Friends?" Casey repeated the word like a foreign concept. "Do we have any friends?"

"No," Gabby smiled, "your jealousy took care of that."

"I had a reason for inviting each guest," Matt told her. "I wanted a kind of cross-section, from psychiatrist to typist, and from drunk to jet pilot. They all share one thing, they all need money. Now let's see if they're brave enough to earn it."

"Remember the fun we had when you poisoned me?" Casey asked his wife.

Gabby laughed heartily, then responded coyly, "Something you ate, the doctor said."

"Yes, arsenic on the rocks." He suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders and said firmly, "Gabby, you'd do it again if you thought you could get away with it, wouldn't you?"

"Darling, whatever do you mean?" Gabby feigned innocence.

"There's something about you," he said as he let go of her. "If ever a man had grounds for divorce..."

"But can't prove them," she replied.

"Your time will come, you'll slip up one of these days," Casey told her.

"Think so?" she asked defiantly.

"If I live long enough," he answered. "I hear that hanging is very uncomfortable incase you get anymore ideas." He turned to leave and added, "Don't let the ghosts and ghouls disturb you."

"Darling," Gabby replied, "the only ghoul in the house is _you_."

* * *

Casey entered the living room and his five guests turned at the sound of his arrival.

"Good evening," he said as he walked in, "I'm your host, Matt Casey. Since we're all strangers to each other, why don't we get acquainted with a drink?"

Christopher Herrmann walked over to him and said, "Mr. Casey, I'd advise you to call this party off right away, the ghosts are already moving and that's a bad sign."

"Let me apologize for my wife, she'll join us later. Let's go over the rules of the party, shall we? The caretakers will leave at midnight, locking us in until they return at 8 o' clock in the morning. Once the door is locked, there's no way out. The windows have bars that a jail would be proud of, and the only door to the outside locks like a vault. There's no electricity, no phone, no one within miles, so no way to call for help. So if any of you decide not to stay for the party, you must let me know before midnight."

"I'm interested in your reasons for this uh, party," Peter Mills commented, and added as he glanced around, "aside from pleasant company."

"Ghosts, Doctor. I think everyone wonders what they would do if they saw a ghost, and now my wife's given us an opportunity to find out."

"Well, ghosts being only creations of hysteria, your party should be a success," Mills said, a bit condescendingly.

"Mr. Herrmann here promises us genuine ghosts," Casey answered.

Herrmann nodded grimly as he accepted his drink, "Seven so far, maybe more before morning. Four men have been murdered in this house, and three women."

"You certainly plan your party very well, Mr. Casey," Mills observed, "Four of us are men, three are women...there's a ghost for everybody."

"Herrmann...why don't you take us on a tour of the house?" Casey asked. "Wasn't there a man who threw his wife into a wine vat or something?"

"That was in the cellar, there's been a murder almost every place in this house," Christopher said as they put down their drinks and he led them through the house.

Down in the cellar, which was also faintly lit by shimmering candles hanging on the walls, Herrmann showed them a trap door and went over to the wall and turned the crank that pulled the cables to open it. "All this belonged to a Mr. Norton, who didn't die here, he was electrocuted later. He did a good deal of experimenting with wine, but his wife didn't think it was any good." The vat door opened all the way, Herrmann locked the cable in place and joined the others who stood around the edge and saw their blurry reflections staring back at them as the liquid in the vat shimmered and rippled. "So he filled the vat with acid and threw her in. It's a funny thing, but none of the murders committed here were ever ordinary, just shootings, or stabbings...they've all been sort of wild, violent, and different."

"You mean there's still acid in there?" Sylvie asked.

In answer, Herrmann went over towards the wall and found a mousetrap that had claimed a recent victim. He stood at the edge of the vat, pulled the spring open and dropped the deceased rodent into the liquid, which started to sizzle and foam.

"Destroys everything with hair and flesh," Herrmann answered, "just leaves the bones."

Sylvie subconsciously took a step back and raised a hand to her mouth. Everyone looked on in awe and horror as a small skeleton rose to the surface of the acid. Herrmann turned the crank the other way and closed the vat.

Matt Casey self consciously laughed as he suggested moving the party back upstairs. One by one everyone left, until it was just Kelly and Sylvie. Kelly closed the door before she could leave.

"How'd you get invited to this party? What'd he tell you?"

Sylvie sighed and answered, "Mr. Casey said everyone would get paid $50,000."

"But nothing about being locked in?" Kelly inquired. "He just made a deal with me on the phone, but nothing about having to stay."

She turned and looked at him. "Aren't you going to stay?"

"If I don't, I lose $50,000," he answered.

The blonde woman merely nodded in agreement.

Kelly looked around the cellar and commented, "Boy, I've never seen so many doors." The wall was lined with them, all antique ornate wooden doors that all looked the same. If somebody wasn't familiar with the layout, it was an easy guess they could quickly get lost down here. Kelly went to one door and opened it and peered in. "Closet," he said, and closed the door and moved to another. A remainder of the previous owner's bootlegging days. "Bottles." Whole shelves lined with empty wine bottles. He closed the door, and moved to another one, opened it, looked in...then stepped in.

Sylvie raised an eyebrow in question, "Does it go anywhere?"

The door swung shut behind Kelly and Sylvie heard the bolt set, just as the one had upstairs. Sylvie grabbed the doorknob and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. She pounded on the door and called Kelly's name...then a sudden breeze blew the candles out.

* * *

Sylvie frantically ran into the living room where everybody was seated and pleaded with them, "Please help me, Kelly's gone, and there's a ghost!"

"A ghost?" Casey repeated as in disbelief.

"You see what I mean?" Mills asked, as if to prove his earlier point.

"Please, come on!" Sylvie begged as she ran out of the room to lead the way.

One by one everybody got up and followed her out of the room.

"Did she say Kelly's gone? Gone where?" Leslie inquired.

They followed Sylvie back down to the basement, where the candles over the doors were re-lit. She ran to the door Kelly had disappeared behind and told them, "We'll have to break it down, it's locked!" To prove her point she pulled on the knob, and the door opened.

"Locked?" Mills repeated.

Casey stuck the wick of a taper candle into the fire from the one over the door, and when it lit he shielded it from a breeze that could put it out, and they stepped into the room, a room that went nowhere, just four walls, and Kelly sprawled on the floor, alive, conscious, alert but slow to respond.

"Are you alright?" Matt asked as they helped the dark haired man to his feet. The dim light from the candle showed a bloody cut over his eye.

"I must've..." Kelly was dazed, "must've bumped my head..."

"Well the only way you could bump your head in here, would be to run head-on into the wall," Peter Mills observed, "you didn't do that, did you?" Without waiting for an answer he suggested to Severide, "Let's get that looked at."

The excitement died down and one by one everybody left the cellar, until this time, the only two people remaining were Leslie and Herrmann.

"I wonder why they didn't kill him?" Herrmann asked, more to himself than to her.

Shay looked at him curiously, "Who?"

Without answering, Christopher told her, "He didn't bump his head, they _hit_ him."

Leslie shook her head in confusion, " _They_?"

The two looked at each other, and without a further word they followed the others back upstairs.


	4. Chapter 4

Kelly had gotten his cut bandaged by Dr. Mills in the living room, as their host questioned Sylvie.

"When you came in you said something about a ghost," Matt said.

"There _was_ something," Sylvie insisted.

"What did it look like?" Casey asked, in a tone that slightly implied he was humoring her.

"Well..." she tried to explain, "It was wearing a black thing that went all the way to the floor."

Everybody took this in as they chose, Dr. Mill's response was to ask her, "Weren't you a little frightened at the time?"

"Well, yes," Sylvie timidly answered.

Peter Mills told their host, "That, Mr. Casey, is hysteria."

With a straight face and a deadpan tone, Casey replied, "Well, Doctor, how do you explain what happened to Kelly, was that hysteria too?"

Mills didn't answer, and instead told Kelly, "You better get that checked in a day or so."

Christopher Herrmann made his way over to Casey and said ominously, "The ghosts are coming closer, Mr. Casey."

"You really believe in your pet ghosts, don't you, Herrmann?" Casey inquired.

Herrmann looked at him with a grim expression and answered, "Before the night's over, you will too."

As the others talked, Kelly and Sylvie left the living room.

"Someone or something was in that room when I was in there, but where? And if the door was locked, how did it get out? What you saw might've been a ghost, Sylvie, but when it was in there with me it was no ghost," Kelly told her.

Sylvie scowled at him. "You don't believe me."

Kelly couldn't resist a small chuckle, "Well how can I?"

Sylvie stormed off without a word and headed up the stairs to find her room where she'd be staying the night. At the top of the landing she stopped and saw a dark haired woman in a dressing gown offering a friendly smile.

"I'm Gabriella Casey," she introduced herself. "You must be Miss Brett." She led the way to a room across the hall and told the blonde woman, "This is your room."

"I doubt I'll spend much time here," Sylvie said.

"It's going to rain, the perfect atmosphere for my husband's party," Gabby told her. She turned and asked the younger woman, "What were you doing wandering around by yourself?"

Sylvie rubbed her arm apprehensively and answered, "I was downstairs with Kelly...Mr. Severide," she corrected herself. "I just left, that's all."

Gabby shot her a warning look and said firmly, "Don't do it again, don't go anywhere else in this house by yourself. You're in danger, we all are."

With that, Gabby left the room the pulled the door shut behind her.

* * *

Kelly had decided to head up to his room to unpack for the night. As he turned a corner in the hallway, he encountered a dark haired woman in a dressing gown and high heels, with a seductive smile.

"I'm Gabriella Casey," she introduced herself. "Are you the doctor?"

"Uh no, I'm Kelly Severide," he answered.

"The pilot," she said, then noticed his forehead, "Oh you've hurt yourself."

"Oh, it's nothing," he insisted. "Uh, which one is my room?"

"I believe it's over here," she showed him the way. All the rooms were more or less the same, old furniture, a few candles, despite the size and the exterior appearance of the house, there wasn't anything too particularly fancy about where the guests would be staying the night.

"You were with that young girl earlier, why was she so upset?" Gabby asked.

"Oh, Sylvie thought she saw a ghost, but...I didn't see anything. I think she's mad that I kidded her about it."

Gabby's demeanor suddenly changed and she told him, "I wouldn't joke about anything else that goes on in this house tonight. Kelly...if I need help can I count on you?"

He looked at the millionaire's wife curiously, then responded, "Yeah, sure I guess so...look, what's all this about?"

"This is no party, he's planning something," Gabby told him. "I wish I knew what. He thinks big money like his can get away with anything. You know I'm his 4th wife, the first simply disappeared, the other two died. Kelly...I don't want to join them."

Severide looked at her with a puzzled expression and asked, "Well what can he get away with?"

"He has a reason for getting us all up to this dreadful old house," Gabby said ominously.

"What for? He doesn't even know us," Kelly said.

She looked at him and said, "Maybe that's exactly why you're here. My husband is sometimes insane with jealously and nothing matters to him then. Please be careful."

"Would he hurt you?" Kelly asked.

With barely a pause, Gabby answered, "He would kill me if he could."

She left the room and closed the door behind her, and saw the shadow of her approaching husband, and quietly rushed over to her own room, and promptly sat down at the vanity and started brushing her hair, pretending she'd been there the entire time.

* * *

Casey watched his wife sitting at the vanity brushing her hair and commented, "Sometimes I lie awake nights wondering why I married you. It was rather a mistake, wasn't it?"

"You didn't marry me, darling I married _you_ , unpleasant but no mistake," Gabby responded smugly.

"Hurry up," Casey said as he moved to leave.

"Matt, for the last time, I'm not going to your party," Gabby told him.

Casey looked back at her and answered ominously, "For the last time, it's not my party but yours, and you _are_ going."

"I am not," Gabby said defiantly as she continued to brush her hair. "Are you ready?" Casey asked.

"No," she answered.

Casey's hand grabbed the back of her head and jerked it back tight. "Are you ready, dear?"

"Yes, damn you," she groaned.

He let go of her and responded, "Would you adore me as much if I were poor? No, all you want to be is a lovely widow. It's almost time to lock up the house, darling, and then your party will _really_ begin. I wonder how it will end?"

Without a further word, he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

* * *

It was 11:45, and everyone had been gathered to the living room. Gabriella Dawson-Casey had finally made her grand appearance in a swanky black party dress, Matt introduced her to the guests. As he did, Sylvie crept over to Kelly and in a panicked whisper told him, "Get me out of here."

Kelly looked at her skeptically, "What about the $50,000?"

"I don't care, he wants to kill me," Sylvie said.

"Who?"

Brett glanced over at the blonde man and answered venomously, "Mr. Casey."

Before he could ask what she meant by that, everyone's attention was drawn to the sudden sound of a door slamming. Matt Casey walked to the front door and tested it, sure enough it was locked. He turned to Herrmann and demanded to know, "It's not midnight yet, who told the caretakers they could leave?"

Herrmann shook his head, "They _never_ leave before midnight."

"Well they've gone now," Casey said, and turned to his guests and explained, "I was about to ask you whether you wanted to stay for the party but it seems the caretakers have made up their mind for us," with a slightly nervous chuckle he told them, "We're _all_ locked in now."

The despair on Sylvie's face was obvious as she complained, "But I don't want to stay!"

Matt shook his head grimly, "I'm sorry, my dear, but it's too late now. But...we have some party favors for all of you...in these little coffins." His eyes indicated a table in the dining room, with seven small coffins laid out, one by one he opened the lids, revealing .38 caliber semi-automatic pistols inside. "This is my wife's idea, I don't mind telling you I find it quite dangerous." One by one he took one out and offered them to each of the guests. At the last one he took it out and held it to Gabby, "And here's yours, dear."

"I don't need it," Gabby replied.

"This was your idea, who knows? You may want to use it on me later," Casey said with a hint of gallows humor.

Gabby maintained a stoic expression on her face as she reluctantly took the gun.

"These are no good against the dead, only the living," Herrmann said, "throw them away, they won't be any good."

"I agree with Herrmann, though not for the same reason," Mills noted.

"Dr. Mills," Gabby said cynically, "don't you approve of our little party favors?"

"Suppose Sylvie had had a gun when she thought she saw a ghost in the cellar?" he replied.

Leslie walked up behind them and pointed out, "I don't think anyone else is going to walk around in total darkness."

Gabby laughed and said, "Oh I'm sure we're not going to go running around the house shooting each other, aren't you?"

"Who knows?" Mills responded, "Fear can make people do amazing things."

* * *

Everyone had gone to their rooms to spend the night. Though Kelly was still curious about what Sylvie had tried to tell him earlier. He waited a while to make sure nobody would come out, then he headed over to Sylvie's room and lightly rapped on the door and called her. There was no answer, he opened the door and looked around, she wasn't there. As upset as she had been, he couldn't see her leaving her room before the morning, not by her own choice anyway. Kelly charged out of the room calling Sylvie's name, and found himself back in the living room. Herrmann was there, sitting in a chair, holding a knife, wide eyed at the sight before him.

"Where's Sylvie?" Kelly demanded to know.

"They've taken her," he said, as if that somehow made sense, "In a little while she'll be one of them."

In two steps Kelly stood over Herrmann and grabbed him by the neck. "If you know where she is you better tell me now!"

"She's gone," Herrmann told him, "She's gone with them, and there's nothing you can do."

From somewhere in the house, they both heard the high pitched scream of a woman, a short lived scream, soon given way to sounds of struggling to breathe. Kelly ran out of the living room and to the front hall and looked up.

A rope was tied to the banister, and a woman's legs dangled limply in the air.

Kelly saw Peter Mills appear at the banister on the top floor with a look of horror on his face and he immediately moved to untie the rope.


End file.
